All Things Nice » Band of Brothers

27: Blanket

Posey walked the halls of Ward Number Five with her heart wobbling around in her boots. Whilst the ward seemed less chaotic than the others she'd passed, likely because it was a designated officers' ward, she still cringed at some of the states she saw the men in. She resented herself for looking away, for these were men who had been wounded in combat just like her brother had been, just like most of the men of Easy Company likely would be, and she couldn't bring herself to look. With every step further into the ward she felt bile creeping its way up her throat, wondering whether she'd even be able to look at her brother when she found him.

She came upon John at the opposite end of the ward to the door, tucked away into a corner and reading a folded-in-half newspaper which he held with one hand. As she approached she took care to look him over, for he didn't have any discernible injuries, and came up relieved. Whatever he was in for didn't seem so bad at all. She could look at him, at least, and do so with little distress at that. However, for all that he looked whole, he didn't look much the same as she remembered at all. Infinitely aged by what he'd been through, it seemed, even his posture was weary. His eyes appeared sunken in, weighed down by dark bags that revealed a plethora of sleepless nights. His blond hair was thinner and so was his face, skin pulled taut over sharp cheekbones. He looked a shell of the boy she'd watched leave for training at the beginning of the war.

Well, he was no longer a boy at all, it seemed.

"John," she said when she approached, her voice a mere whisper.

Where he sat propped up against the bed's headboard, John was bathed in sunlight, an ethereal glow settling around him and having him appear as though he was in a Renaissance painting. Even when ailing he seemed unattainably superior to anyone she'd ever met. He'd always been her hero.

When Flight Lieutenant Jonathan Wells looked up at his sister, his eyebrows crashed down. His jaw fell agape and slackened. He seemed to be frozen in time for a few moments.

"Hi," Posey began tentatively, taking two minute steps forwards. She wanted to reach out and run a hand over the pristine white bedsheets he sat under - find out whether they were as soft as they looked - but she didn't. She held his gaze, her eyes wide and hopeful whilst his were narrowed and confused.

"Posey?"

He looked as though he was seeing a ghost. She felt as though she was, too. There was something colourless about his appearance, now that she was close up. The gold they'd once shared in their hair seemed grey and dull on him now. Did hers look the same?

"Hi," she said again. She didn't know what else to say.

"What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that? How did you even find me?"

That was John, same as ever, always wanting to know the fine print immediately. There was no 'how are you', no 'I missed you', not even the hint of a smile. Posey felt stupid for ever imagining that he might say either of those things and even more stupid for hoping for a smile. His smiles had always been few and far between, and she had no idea why she'd expected one whilst he was laying wounded in a hospital bed.

"I came to visit you," she replied, choosing to answer the questions one by one. "I..." She trailed off, wondering how to even begin to explain what she'd done. Standing there under his piercing gaze she felt she'd been incredibly foolish, her life from the past year a series of increasingly terrible decisions. She feared his reaction but pushed on anyway. "I wanted to get home. I was worried about you - about you and mum..." She trailed off once more, then cleared her throat and added, "The quickest way across the ocean was via troopship so I pretended to be a boy and trained to be a paratrooper. I passed, as well. Got my jump wings." She pointed the shiny silver pin on her lapel out to him. His eyes didn't flicker to glance down at it.